Never Shall The Sun The Morrow See
by Peregrin Ionad
Summary: Finally updated! After the battle of the five armies, Thranduil is left wishing he'd never gone to war.
1. Chapter 1

_We who are left, how shall we look again_

_Happily on the sun or feel the rain,_

_Without remembering how they who went_

_Ungrudgingly and spent_

_Their all for us, loved too the sun and rain?_

_A bird among the rain-wet lilac sings _

_-But we, how shall we turn to little things,_

_And listen to the birds and wind and streams,_

_Made holy by their dreams,_

_Nor feel the heart-break in the heart of things?_

"Find the King's son" the call came, cutting through the sound of the rain upon the rocks, echoing off the surrounding mountains. The rain ran over the bodies, washing away the blood, creating crimson rivers which mixed with the earth, staining it red. The searchers were soaked through, their clothes still torn and battle-stained. But they were swift and took to their task quickly, turning over the bodies of the dead, searching for their prince. Their going was hard, for there were many bodies, all clad alike in green and brown, and stained with battle-gore and blood. Suddenly, from the centre of the battlefield, there came a cry of greatest sorrow. All froze, as if turned to ice by the completion of their mission.

He lay there in the mud, golden hair fanned out behind him, soaked in blood. His face was peaceful, akin to sleep, but his skin was waxen-pale. Out of his chest there protruded three goblin arrows, and one side of his chest was bloodied also. All about him lay bodies, those of goblins and wargs, but also those of elves, who had given their lives to protect him.

One elf went down on his knees and felt for a pulse, desperately calling out "My Prince, Legolas, please"

A wail went up amongst the surrounding elves, as they realised what had happened. The Elves of Mirkwood respected their king, as loyal subjects, but he had a swift temper, and was sometimes quick to anger. But his only child, Prince Legolas, they loved, for he was kind and graceful and yet in a way more ordinary than the other Lords. He was swift to laughter and had many an elleth entranced by his clear blue eyes, and quick smile.

Himhîth, the elf who had found him, was one of Legolas's close friends, but he soon realised the gravity of the situation and after sending one warrior to find the King, he and three others made a stretcher from spears and cloaks, and placing the Prince's body upon it, hurried back to the camp.

When they arrived, there were many elves waiting, the King in front. The four warriors laid down Legolas and bowed swiftly. Himhîth went down on one knee before the King, but words failed him and he began to weep.

It was then that the King realised his son was truly dead, and so, white-faced, he bade four elves bear the body to his tent.

Once there, his master healer, who had accompanied them in case of a battle, confirmed that the Prince of Mirkwood lived no more.

"He died because of this wound" the healer pointed to Legolas's side. "This was made by a poisoned blade. The wounds were deep, but not fatal; we have never seen this kind of poison before."

On hearing this, the King seemed to shrink into himself and sank down onto a chair, his head in his hands. He remained that way whilst the healers removed the arrows, and stitched up the wounds, whilst they washed his son's body andlaid it out again, dressed in formal robes. However, as an elf took up a comb and was about to comb Legolas's hair, Thranduil rose, and in a voice which sounded desperate, asked to brush his hair, one last time. The Elf complied, shocked at how _old _his King sounded. Then the tent was empty, apart from the King, who sat upon a stool by his son and combed his golden hair. Upon the Prince's head he placed a circlet of twisted leaves, made from mithril. Then he took Legolas's cold hand and began to sing, softly, his voice filling with tears. The song was strange; he had heard it sung one as a lullaby, but its words were of a different nature and he wondered why it sprang unbidden to his lips, for the song was about stars and his son had looked only to the treetops.

_"Underneath the stars I'll meet you__  
__Underneath the stars I'll greet you__  
__There beneath the stars I'll leave you__  
__Before you go of your own free will___

_Go gently___

_Underneath the stars you met me__  
__Underneath the stars you left me __  
__I wonder if the stars regret me__  
__At least you'll go of your own free will___

_Go gently___

_Here beneath the stars I'm landing__  
__And here beneath the stars not ending__  
__Why on earth am I pretending?__  
__I'm here again, the stars befriending__  
__They come and go of their own free will___

_Go gently__  
__Go gently___

_Underneath the stars you met me__  
__And Underneath the stars you left me __  
__I wonder if the stars regret me__  
__I'm sure they'd like me if they only met me__  
__They come and go of their own free will___

_Go gently__  
__Go gently__  
__Go gently"_

And throughout the camp Elven voices echoed in sorrow.

It was so that Mithrandir found them, as dawn was breaking. He had come to deliver news of Thorin's passing, but knew instantly that something was wrong. Although he had heard the songs of mourning the previous night, he had not thought it was anything more than grief at the many elves that should have lived yet long ages of the world, under the trees.

He had been taken straight to the King's tent, but before he entered, his mind registered something different about the layout of the Royal tents, although he couldn't be sure what.

The answer struck him full in the face however, when he entered and saw the still body of the Prince laid out upon his father's bed, and the Elvenking looking, if it was possible, all his many years.

Mithrandir shook his head in shock, "What happened?" he murmured.

"He fell." was the King's quiet answer. "I begged him to stay, if not in Mirkwood, then in the camp, but he would not hear of it. He said that if one was to be a proper Prince of the realm, then one had to act like it; he couldn't let the warriors go and fight whilst he trembled in a corner, like a coward."

"He knew the cost, as we all did." Even as Mithrandir spoke he realised his words seemed heartless, but the King merely closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, they still had a blank look, and Mithrandir knew that it would take the King yenî to overcome his sorrow, if he did ever overcome it.

"I have sent word to Elrond of Imladris" the King spoke, and his voice was as blank as his eyes. Mithrandir nodded.

"His sons, they and...: the King trailed off, as if he couldn't say his son's name." And" he sighed; "there was once even talk of his daughter, Arwen, and my son" he swallowed slightly, trying to stay composed. "They could have married, made a tie between the three Elven- kingdoms, but..." again he trailed off. "Now that will never be."

"I soon must take my leave of you, Thranduil, for I bring news only of loss, and I know you grieve already for your son. He was a fine Prince, and not only shall the Elves of the Greenwood mourn him."

The King nodded, then rose, so that he stood level with Mithrandir. "Nay" he said "Tell me your news. I would not fail my duty, as I have my son."

Mithrandir looked sharply at the Elvenking, and then nodded. "Very well" he said "the Dwarves have suffered a great loss."

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone! Look chapter two is finally here! amazing huh. I'm really sorry, I don't know why it took so long for me to post this, as it's shorter than I'd hoped...oh well! Thanks to those who reviewed! and also, just to let you know, chapter 1 has been edited my my wonderful beta Greylin! this chapter has yet to be run by her, because she is currently betaring one of my other fics! This time the poem is mine!yes I've finally written my own. Well...enjoy!**

See the sky grow darker,

The wind is chiller,

The light of the sun dims,

And the trees shake in grief.

They weep their leaves,

Unto the forest floor,

They bow their leafless heads,

As if they too are dying.

The forest is silent,

Nothing moves, nor speaks,

Save the mournful dirge.

Of the earth.

A messenger in the colours of Mirkwood flew through the gates of Imladris, just as dawn was breaking. He leapt from his horse and raced up the steps to the main door. Banging frantically upon it with one tightly clenched fist, he removed the letter from his pack and prepared for the doors to open. The Elf who answered took one look at him and wordlessly led him straight to Elrond's study, signaling for the messenger to stay, he hurried to fetch his lord.

Elrond dismissed the messenger when he heard how the Elf had only paused in his journey when his horse could take no more. Then he, in a way most un-becoming of an elf-lord, tore open the parchment and sank into his chair. Reading quickly he soon found the news he was expecting. Elrond sighed, a deep mournful sigh, as his fears were confirmed. Then, taking a deep breath, he read the letter fully, trying to make sense of the tragedy.

From the way the letter was written, Elrond could tell that it wasn't directly from Thranduil, it was too impersonal, and composed, for someone who had lost his only son only a matter of days ago. But considering that, Elrond doubted the Elven-king was in a sane state of mind, never mind being able to write letters. Elrond could barely comprehend Thranduil's pain. Although his wife was gone, she wasn't dead, and anyway Elrond had his children. Thranduil had no-one.

Rising, Elrond went to inform his advisors, and eldest sons.

Estel Elrondion was annoyed. He had woken early that morning to the sound of a horse in the main courtyard, and loud knocking on the door. Then silence had fallen. No-one had come to wake him, or even to tell him the news, so he presumed nothing too awful had happened. But the notion of sleep was firmly discarded as he heard voices sound from just down the hall. His brothers, he guessed.

Dressing quickly, he slipped out of his room, and followed the voices, down to his father's study.

Important news then, Estel thought as he walked. Maybe, it was something to do with the Dwarves, and the Halfling who had passed through with Mithrandir. Their talk of lost treasure had sounded to exciting to the ten year old, who would have given anything to join them.

The voices in Elrond's study had grown quiet; Estel bent down, and tried to look under the door. But to his disappointment, all he could see was several pairs of feet. His brothers, father and those of Glorfindel and Erestor, he surmised. But beyond that, he couldn't tell what was going on. He gave a frustrated sigh and positioned himself next to the door, in the hope that they would start talking again. But either his sigh was too loud, or he had moved too suddenly, for the door swung open and a red eyed Elladan stared down at him. Estel leapt to his feet, and was about to come up with an excuse, when he saw how pale his brother was, and the silver tear tracks on his cheeks.

"El" he said "Man sa? Ce mae?"

"Tolo dín Estel" Elrond's voice came from inside the room. Estel followed his brother in, and stood in front of his father, wondering what could have happened, to upset his family so.

"Ada" He repeated his question "Man sa?"

"Estel" Elrond sighed "do you remember Legolas. The Prince of Mirkwood?"

_Elvish: _

_'Man sa' - What is it_

_'Ce mae' - are you well_

_'Tolo din' - come here._

**_Next time: _The Elves of Imladris arrive in Mirkwood, and witness a burial ceremony that has disasterous results for all involved! yes...it'll be a happy chapter!**

**Please now move your mouse slightly to the left and click...this is all it takes to leave me a review. Even if it's just your opinion! I know you might not have much time, but I'm not wanting essays so...it's what 2 mins!**

**Thanks! Pip**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! chapter 3 is here! I have chapter 4 ready to be typed, so hopefully it'll be along next week. I wanted to post them both together, but I've not got the time as I'm in a show. Thanks a lot to all those who reviewd, and to those who added me to either their story alerts/favourite stories, it made me happy!!**

**Oh and the song at the beginning is again by Kate Rusby!**

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Lay me down gently, lay me down low,  
I fear I am broken and won't mend, I know.  
One thing I ask when the stars light the skies,  
Who now will sing me lullabies,  
Oh who now will sing me lullabies. 

In this big world I'm lonely, for I am but small,  
Oh angels in heaven, don't you care for me at all?  
You heard my heart breaking for it rang through the skies,  
So why don't you sing me lullabies,  
Oh why don't you sing me lullabies.

I lay here; I'm weeping for the stars they have come,  
I lay here not sleeping; now the long night has begun.  
The man in the moon, oh he can't help but cry,  
For there's no one to sing me lullabies,  
Oh there's no one to sing me lullabies.

So lay me down gently, oh lay me down low,  
I fear I am broken and won't mend, I know .  
One thing I ask when the stars light the skies,  
Who now will sing me lullabies,  
Oh who now will sing me lullabies.

And so it was that the Elves of Imladris set off to Mirkwood. They travelled as light as possible, to make the best time, taking only what they could carry themselves, or on the pack horses. The weather was fair, and the pass over the mountains clear, but it did nothing to change the mood of the elves. Most of the journey was spent in silence, and they met not another soul until they were stopped by a patrol on the borders of the forest.

"Halt" cried a voice. Estel's head shot up from a daydream, and he suddenly came face to face with several blond elves. Their faces were grim, and they wielded bows and arrows.

Elrond dismounted and greeted the wood elves

"Le suiliad"

"Mae tollen a Mirkwood, Hîr Elrond." The elf in charge of the patrol replied.

* * *

The rest of the journey through Mirkwood was swift, for the patrol led them by secret Elven paths. When they arrived at the Elvenking's palace they were met by several lords of Thranduil's court. But it was Galion, the king's butler who led them to the private chambers of the Royal family and Elrond alone who went in to Thranduil, leaving his son's alone in the hushed palace.

They stood in awkward silence, not knowing what to do or say. Then suddenly, as one, they started to walk, slowly, softly, to the great hall.

Legolas' body lay in the centre of the hall. There were several huddles of elves scattered around, but they all left swiftly, when they saw the sons of Elrond approaching, with glazed eyes.

The Elven-prince looked so peaceful in death, and that was what irked Elrohir. Legolas had been full of life, always moving. It just wasn't right.

It was Elladan, ever the responsible, who dragged himself back top the present first. He saw Galion approaching, and started to ask him about the burial preparations.

* * *

A procession of elves filed out of the palace gates, led by the King. They walked to a clearing near the edge of the forest, and laid Legolas' body just inside it, on a bed of leaves.

Estel looked questioningly at his father, who shook his head. Then suddenly, all the elves dropped to one knee, bowed their heads, and wept for the dead.

On the return to the palace, Elrond, his arm around his youngest son, explained the significance of the ceremony.

"It's an old Silvan ceremony, Estel. They used to leave the bodies of their dead in the forest, to let them return to the earth" he sighed "But the forest isn't safe enough now, and there are more and more deaths. So we'll come back tomorrow and………" his voice trailed off.

"Why, Ada?" Estel sniffed

"Why will we come back tomorrow?" Elrond asked, wondering what his son meant.

"Why did he have to die, Ada. He's an elf, Elves don't die, it's only mortals that die, so why Legolas?!" Estel's voice was becoming increasingly louder, but Elrond whispered the answer softly to himself.

"I don't know, I just don't know"

Suddenly Elladan was beside them, he spoke softly into his father's ear, but Estel could still hear their conversation.

"How is the King, Adar?"

"He's breaking apart" Elrond answered "He keeps up a pretence that he's fine, but anyone could tell that it's only a matter of time until his façade falls."

**Elvish**

_Mae tollen – _Welcome

_Le suiliad - _Hello

_To be continued_


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm really sorry it's been so long since the last chapter, and I'm afraid it will be a long time again as my GCSE's start in 2 weeks. so there may not be an update until june. My exam's finish on the 13th. sothat;s probably when I'll post again. I'm really sorry, but I don't have any time!**

**Sorry about that! This chapter is a little strange...some things you may thing are a bit weird, but hey! if you can live with dragons and orcs and elves, nothing's weird really! it also features my first (apart from Himhith in chapter one) OC's! Baran and Mari are aged about 10 and 4 respectively...please be nice to them!!**

**this chapter's song/poem is by Sara Teasdale**

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Now while my lips are living  
their words must stay unsaid,  
and will my soul remember  
to speak when I am dead?

Yet if my soul remembered  
you would not heed it, dear,  
for now you must not listen,  
and then you could not hear.

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_"Never again shall a dwarf enter these woods. They shall forever rue the day they passed through here, with their tales of excitement and adventure, of lost treasure and secret pathways into mountains. Because it came with a price, and it wasn't the dwarves who paid it. I paid the price; it is my son who lies dead, because they could not control their greed."_

Elrond sighed, remembering the conversation. He had not interrupted Thranduil. He had not spoken of how the dwarves had lost their leader, and several of their company. He had remained silent, because he realised in a way Thranduil's loss was harder to bear. He had lost his only remaining family for eternity. At least the dwarves could die. Thranduil would live on forever alone and remembering.

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"Baran!" a young girl's voice sounded in the sunlit glade.

"Mari" a boy called back "Where are you going? You know that the forest is dangerous; if you don't stop you'll be lost. Would you like to be caught by an elf? They eat little girls who don't listen to their brothers, you know, they suck out your eyes for breakfast and knaw your bones for supper!"

With this Mari, who couldn't have been more than four or five years old, stopped running and began to cry.

Baran, suddenly feeling guilty, knelt down beside his little sister and wrapped his arms about her.

"Oh I'm sorry Mari; I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry, don't cry, please. But you must remember that the forest is dangerous. Come on, let's go home, yes."

Mari nodded and stopped sniffling. But then, as Baran rose up to take her hand, Mari spotted something shining a little further into the forest. With Baran close behind her, she ran, as fast as her little legs would carry her, towards it.

When he stopped Baran saw Mari kneeling next to a body in the grass and ferns of the forest floor.

It was a young man, golden-haired and fair of face. His clothes spoke of great wealth, as did the silver circlet, shaped like a wreath of leaves, upon his brow. His eyes were closed in peaceful sleep.

Baran's thoughts were interrupted by his sister's voice.

"Do you think he's a prince? Maybe he lives in a great tower. He could take me there, and I could be a princess, with a shiny crown!"

"Maybe", Baran smiled, but inside he was troubled. He knew there was something wrong, but he couldn't say what.

Then he noticed that Mari was shaking the man, who didn't wake. Then it hit him.

"Mari!" he shouted "come away from him!"

"Why should I?" Mari whined

"Mari come here, he's not asleep." Baran ran over and pulled his sister away from the corpse. But as he did, the body's hair slipped away from his shoulder, revealing the pointed ear of an elf.

"An Elf" Baran whispered softly. But it couldn't be, elves didn't die, everyone knew that. Everyone also knew that they enchanted humans into giving them their souls, and that was how they survived. So what was this one doing, dead and seemingly abandoned at the edge of the forest?

Baran made a decision; he walked slowly towards the elf and tried to lift him. Finding that the Elf weighed no more than him, despite being much taller, Baran managed to lift the elf over his shoulder and still walk.

"Mari" He called "It'll be dark soon, we must go home."

The little girl nodded stood to leave. As she did one of her hair ribbons caught on a twig, but she didn't notice and they left the forest.

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It was almost dark when the two children reached their village and their mother was standing worriedly by the door to their house. When she saw the body over Baran's shoulder, she cried out to them. Baran lowered the body gently to the floor and explained how they had found the elf.

But their mother wasn't listening; she was staring at the body. Then suddenly she spoke, startling the children.

"Deinol!" she called for her husband.

"Baran" she said, looking at the children "Baran, dead bodies don't bleed."

**so...good, bad, don't care. Give a review whatever your opinion! only two people did last time...Come on guys!**


	5. Chapter 5

**_I'm really sorry for the delay! It's been almost a year and I can't believe it! - I've been to India and Germany, almost finished my AS's and so I can only promise to start updating a lot quicker! Thank you to anyone who's still reading/just joining on this chapter!_**

* * *

Baran couldn't sleep that night. He tossed and turned on his bed as if in the heat of summer, all his thought swirling around the elf that lay deathly still in his parent's room. His father had been angry, half afraid of the elf, and half at what the rest of the village would do if they found out he was sheltering it, but he had agreed the elf could stay at least the night, as he was clearly no danger in his weakened state.  
Mari had fallen asleep next to him almost immediately; she was too young to understand that the elf might not awaken the next morning. But Baran lay there, hoping against hope that the elf would survive, and puzzling over why he had been left in the forest, alone, in such a condition. He had, of course, heard all the terrible tales of the cruelty of the elves, especially that of their treacherous king, who lived in a magic palace in the most deadly part of Mirkwood. But Baran could not believe that they would abandon one of their own to die, particularly one as important as this elf clearly was – with his richly embroidered clothes.  
He also worried that his mother would not be able to save the elf. She was no healer and knew only the rudimentary basics required by any parent with small children. But she did have a reasonably good grasp of herb-lore, thanks to his late grandmother's teaching, so Baran believed there was still hope, as long as he held faith in, and trusted, her.

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None of the elves in Thranduil's court slept well that night either, although whilst Baran had a glimpse of hope, their hearts held nothing but deepest sorrow. Most paced fitfully about the corridors, busying themselves with irrelevant tasks, or simply sat, stunned that only a short time before they had been members of a thriving court that, now they had lost the prince, was slowly but surely falling apart at the seams. All had thoughts of the farewell ceremony the next day weighing heavily upon their minds.

Indeed, in the king's chambers, only Estel slept, Thranduil had finally dropped his mask and was drowning his grief in many glasses of the potent wine he'd ordered Galion to leave on the table before dismissing him for the night. It had been obvious to the other occupants of the room that the king's butler had wanted, so desperately, to stay and to comfort his king on his loss, for truly they were more friends than servant and master, but Thranduil had seen none of the sorrow or longing in Galion's eyes, seeing only the wine and his own mourning.  
The Peredhil's had remained, Elladan and Elrohir stood in separate corners, too wired to sit down or rest and unwilling to break the oppressive silence, whilst their father sat on the side of the bed, one hand carding gently through Estel's hair, whilst he gazed deep into the flames of the fire, as if they could provide some answer to this tragedy.

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_TCB.._.** Please review if you have time!**


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